sometimes, i feel very lost
by sheriff stilinski
Summary: Stiles loves Lydia for what seems like an eternity, and then, doesn't. StilesLydia, StilesMalia


Title: sometimes, i feel very lost

Summary: Stiles loves Lydia for what seems like an eternity, and then, doesn't. StilesLydia, StilesMalia

Author's Note: If there is any song that makes me happy, it is "Applepeels" by Whatever, Dad. Please listen to it. Close your eyes and breathe. The title belongs to it.

Sorry if this seems rushed, I just needed to get it out. Meep.

/

Sex with Malia isn't awkward.

In fact, it's kind of wonderful. He likes feeling her soft curves and the hardness of her belly and the way his hipbones align with hers when he kisses her. When he presses himself into her, she says, "love me" – so he kisses her like he does, and he touches her like he does, and he tells himself that when he is over her, he does.

And only once, when Malia's eyes turn blue and she howls so loudly that his whole body vibrates, does Stiles think _Lydia_.

/

Stiles feels like he wakes up one day and Lydia is staring at him. He's in a white tiled room (when did he get here? he does not know.) and she's looking at him and she's scared and he sees she cares and it hurts so much – cripples him so much that he swipes the game in front of him to the side.

When Stiles wakes up, Lydia is off with his duplicate and he thinks, _she couldn't even be here now she couldn't even look at me_ and he feels the weight of all the people in the room – all those people whose lives he dangled in the air, and he feels so empty that he forgets what love feels like.

/

And then Allison dies and Aiden dies and the Nosgitsune dies and Stiles pretends he is whole again.

But at every moment, behind his eyelids, he sees the bones of the corpses, the blood under his fingernails, the sight of Malia's hair splayed on the dusty couch, the probing gaze of Scott, and the searing image of Lydia looking at Aiden's body and the black liquid that dripped from his mouth...

And Stiles, most of all, remembers the way Lydia clutched onto Stiles, although he was much too fragile to grab onto, and how for weeks, Lydia's skin was the only skin that met his.

/

Stiles pretends as he watches Malia learn how to hone her powers. He pretends as he struggles through schoolwork. He pretends as he stares hopelessly at the ceiling.

Stiles does not speak to Lydia in fear that she will see right through his charade. Part of him hopes she will notice that he is ignoring her –

But again, she is mourning the loss of another boy.

/

One Saturday afternoon, Malia kisses him again.

It's strangely familiar even though it was only that one time, but Stiles swears kissing Malia is already a muscle memory. They go through the motions until they end up the same way as the last time – struggling to find a condom, Malia groaning with need, and the same intensity behind kisses.

This time, however, they fall asleep next to each other. There is no Nosgitsune getting in the way. There is only the fan on Stiles' desk, buzzing quietly.

And yet, Stiles finds himself waking up to check his fingers.

He wakes up Malia. She pulls herself and pushes her chest onto his bare back. She lays her lips on his spine and mutters sleepily, "Come back to me, Stiles. Come back and sleep with me."

He lays down and adjusts himself so he is facing her. He kisses her nose and she smiles into the pillow.

And as he watches Malia fall asleep, Stiles realizes that he had loved Lydia for what seemed like an eternity, and then, one day, when he was not looking, didn't.

/

Stiles pinpoints Lydia's return into his life on the first day that Stiles and Malia start holding hands in the hallway.

Lydia comes up to him after school at the Jeep, while he's waiting for Malia, and says, "You haven't said a word to me since Aiden died."

"Don't pretend that you haven't looked at me until today," Stiles quips.

Lydia's eyes dash across his face, zooming across every crevice and every dip.

"You stopped caring about me," she whispers. "You stopped looking at me like..."

"Like I was in love with you?"

Lydia blinks too fast. Stiles wants to take every word back and hates that he'll never stop caring.

Lydia bites her lip, closes her eyes, and takes too long to open them again, "Did you stop?"

"Do you really care, Lydia?" Stiles asks, quietly.

Lydia opens her mouth – and then Malia is there, taking all the air with her big eyes and smile and Lydia chokes on the words Stiles has maybe been waiting to hear all his life.

Stiles stays silent as Lydia tries to find a way to get away from Malia and Stiles and Malia, bless her lack of social skills, does not notice.

When they're in the car, Stiles' phone chirps. Malia gestures to it and Stiles nods.

"Lydia says that she never read about panic attacks," Malia giggles. "That's weird."

Stiles clutches the wheel until his knuckles turn white and then lets go.

/

He finds himself showing up to Lydia's doorstep three days later with wet hair and a piece of paper in hand.

Her mother opens the door, which is to be expected, since Stiles is half convinced he lives in a television show where nothing goes right for him. Her smile, however, is light.

"Stiles!" she says happily. "Are you here for Lydia?"

Stiles is vaguely surprised she remembered his name, but doesn't let it show. He used to come here often enough. He doesn't know why he forgot.

"Uh, yeah," he says, smoothly. "Uhm, could you get her or –"

"No, no," Lydia's mother says, opening the door wider. "Go right on up. She should be doing homework or something."

Stiles almost runs away, but thinks better of it, and steps inside instead.

He takes the steps two at a time and ends up face to face with her at the top.

She isn't wearing any makeup. Her eyelashes touch the skin below her eyebrow. They're so long that he's surprised he didn't really notice them sooner. She looks so beautiful – more than usual, that he feels the old flames of his past love flicker.

She steps so close to him that within another few centimeters, their feet would be touching.

Stiles keeps looking at her lips, which he knows is unfair to Malia, but he can't stop.

"I looked it up," he says, licking his lips. "It's not suggested to kiss people who are having panic attacks."

Lydia closes the gap. The tips of his sneakers are touching her tiny, purple toe nail polished feet. She keeps looking at him with her big eyes framed by her long eyelashes and she is flush against him and he forgets how to speak.

"I knew you weren't going to be the same after," she whispers. "But I never thought, not even for a minute, you'd stop loving me. I couldn't... I didn't think that would happen."

He wants to yell at her. He wants to tell her he's been pretending. He wants to tell her that he'll never love her again. He wants to tell her that he'll never stop loving her and he hates her for it. He wants to tell her what it was like to be trapped inside his own mind without her holding on – she was supposed to hold on.

But something tells Stiles, in the way Lydia is looking at him, that she already knows.

They stand together on the top of Lydia's stairs, looking at each other and thinking things the other one knows, and they do not say a word.

Silently, Lydia presses her strawberry blonde head into Stiles' chest and begins to cry.

"I don't love you anymore, you know," Stiles says into her hair.

Lydia laughs between sobs and spreads her fingers across the expanse of Stiles' back, "I know."

He pushes her against the stairwell railing. He can see the bottom floor from where he is standing. Her eyelashes are heavy from salt.

"I always knew you were lying about the holding breath thing," he says.

Lydia rolls her eyes, "You _are_ supposed to hold your breath, idiot."

Stiles kisses her to make her stop talking.

When Lydia pulls away, she reaches up to touch Stiles' lips.

"Will you love me again, one day?" she asks as she traces his upper lip.

Stiles wraps his arms around her and smiles, "Only if you promise that you'll love me first, this time."

Lydia smirks, "That won't be a problem."


End file.
